Just Something To Hold On To
by diasounds
Summary: Daniela Carter was twenty four when she met Dean Winchester. She was pissed, in every sense of the word; angry with the world and best friends with the bottle, and so was he.


**Just Something To Hold On To**

Daniela Carter was twenty four when she met Dean Winchester. She was pissed, in every sense of the word; angry with the world and best friends with the bottle, and so was he.

The room was smoky and dim, all around her there were men in worn jeans and grungy plaid flannels, pouring over scribbled notes, twirling knifes in their hands, and she'd be damned if they weren't all hunters. She wasn't sure why she chose a bar that was full of exactly what she was trying to forget. The ring was still on her finger, though, and that didn't make much sense either. After two too many tequila, she was sick of smelling him on the men as they walked by, of hearing him in the song on the radio, and tears started to form behind her lashes. She needed a smoke, a habit she'd only picked up since she married him.

The motherly woman behind the bar offered to call her a cab, but Daniela just shook her head with a small smile. She dropped some bills on the counter and walked unsteadily out the door. The night was clear, the full moon above her in the sky. She made it to the middle of the dirt car park before a choked sob escaped her. She stood there, alone in the dark, arms wrapped around herself as tears ran down her face and old country and western drifted out of the Roadhouse.

"Alright there, sweetheart?"

Daniela jumped and turned at the voice. He was sitting alone on the hood of an old black Chevy, decked in t-shirt and jeans, beer in hand. His hair was short and a small amulet hung around his neck, glistening in the moonlight. He was frowning over his bottle at her, looking almost concerned.

"What's it to you?" Daniela sniffed, pulling a cigarette out of her pack and searching her pockets for her lighter, which proved elusive. "_Damn it_."

"Here." The man flicked open a lighter, still frowning. "I don't bite." He said when she hesitated.

Throwing caution to the wind, Daniela took a half a dozen steps in his direction. Sitting on the hood he was eye level with her as she stood in front of him and he kept her gaze as he lit her cigarette.

"Thanks." She said, taking a drag. She turned, blowing the smoke away from him and then after another moment's hesitation, extended her free hand. Tequila made her brave. "I'm Dani."

"Dean." His hand swallowed her tiny one, and she felt the dry skin and calluses. "You lost, Dani?"

"I suppose that all depends on your definition of the word lost." she said absently, leaning against his car, enjoying her smoke.

"Geographically speaking?" Dean asked, taking a sip from his bottle.

"Not lost." Dani said firmly.

"Not lost, huh?" Dean asked. "Then tell me, Dani Not-Lost, what's a pretty little thing like you doing crying all alone outside a bar full of hunters?"

"I might as well be a hunter. Married to one." Dani sniffed, flicking cigarette ash on the ground. "They pulled his body out of the lake this morning."

"God, I'm sorry."

Dani shrugged off his sympathy, fresh tears making their way down her face. She wiped them away and spoke around the cigarette between her lips. "He didn't love me. At least not as much as he loved this fucking job."

Dean nodded, understanding.

"You got a girl, Dean?"

"Naw." Dean shook his head and drained his beer, tossing the empty on the ground. "You can't keep a lady happy doin' what I do. It ain't right. S'pose your hubby didn't know that."

"He didn't know much." Dani said, lifting herself to sit next to him on the hood. They sat in silence for a long while, looking out at the moon. Dani finished her cigarette and pulled out a second, offering the pack to Dean. He shook his head.

"Haven't had a smoke since I was nineteen." He grinned. "The kid brother would kill me."

"Where's he at?"

"Stanford." Dean sighed.

"California?" Dani looked up.

"That's the one." Dean shook his head. "Our dad died a few months back. Sam decided he'd had enough, went back to school."

"That's tough. I had a kid brother once. Haven't seen him in years." Dani tilted her head as she looked up at Dean, shivering in the cold. "Sorry about your Dad. Were you close?"

"Used to be." Dean said, getting off the hood. As he opened the passenger door, Dani thought she'd out-stayed her welcome and started to stand. But before she could steady herself on her feet, he was back, leather jacket in hand. "If we're gonna talk feelings, maybe you'd better give me a smoke after all." He said, draping the jacket around her small frame.

"Thanks." She smirked shyly and tossed the pack at him. He sat next to her again and lit one up, breathing deeply. "So. Sam, the kid brother... you two leave on good terms?"

"Yeah. I dropped him off myself. Smart kid, leavin' this shit." Dean closed his eyes for a moment. "Some days I consider it myself. Be nice to give this up for a while. Get a girl, a kid or two... just- just somethin' to hold on to, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Dani nodded. She stood, and stumbled, falling forwards. Dean caught her, still sitting as she steadied herself on his arms. "Jesus, I am _drunk_."

Dean snorted, sticking the cigarette between his teeth and reaching out with both hands to push her long auburn hair away from her face. "You're a gorgeous drunk."

"Yes, well, you think so, but you're drunk too." Dani giggled.

"Guilty."

"Hey. Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna sleep with me?"

Dean stared at her for a moment. Then he removed his cigarette and kissed her.

"I'll take that as a yes."

They called a cab to get to his motel room. They ordered a pizza and sobered up a bit before landing on the bed, lips locked.

"You're husband was an idiot." Dean said, kissing her bare shoulder.

"I always thought so." She agreed, tugging at his shirt. It came off and she kissed him again.

Somewhere between the sex and the next morning she was crying again.

"Shhh, sweetheart, it's alright." Dean held her and stroked her hair.

"I don't know where to go now."

"Come with me." He suggested, kissing her forehead.

"Okay." She agreed. He was drunk and she was drunk. He didn't know where he was going, and she didn't know what she was agreeing to, but neither cared.

She continued to sob as she clutched at the stranger next to her. He'd be more later; she'd love him one day, and two years later he'd ask her to marry him. But right then, he was just something to hold on to.


End file.
